


Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: Living Flesh

by DirtyScrolls



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bosmer (Elder Scrolls), Dirty Talk, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fantastic Racism, Fetishization, M/M, Mention of Necrophilia, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Past Murder, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Stalking, past necrophilia, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29697882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyScrolls/pseuds/DirtyScrolls
Summary: The Dragonborn indulges a long-held fantasy with a grieving elf.
Relationships: (mentioned) - Relationship, Anoriath/Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Brynjolf/Ravyn Imyan, Male Dragonborn/Elrindir
Comments: 85
Kudos: 19





	Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: Living Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags, as always. Kordin is Not Nice in the one (is he ever?).
> 
> Suggestions always welcome.
> 
> I'd like to thank folkful for their help developing this story.
> 
> I am a dumbass and accidentally froze comments on this, so please comment on my previous story, till my idiot ass figures this out. Sorry and thanks.

Brynjolf woke up with cum crusted on his well-spent cock and in his tender hole. Beside him, still asleep, was Ravyn, on his back, breathing softly. He looked broken, tired, and utterly desirable, that thick dark hair all messed up, pearly come crusting his lush lips and pointed chin.

The redhead very tenderly lapped his lovely face clean, holding him close, but softly.

“Mmm.”

The elf awoke slowly, sinking into Brynjolf’s touch.

“Gods, lad,” muttered Brynjolf, “That was wonderful. If I were the marrying type, I’d have a ring on your handsome hand before noon.”

“Not sure Mara would want me in her Temple. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

Kordin wasn’t exactly any more jealous than usual at this little confession of Brynjolf’s. He didn’t want to marry Imyan; he just wanted his pretty body always available. 

He smiled as he listened and watched, hidden. 

Brynjolf, charming whore that he was, had taken full advantage of Kordin’s grudging agreement to his seeing Imyan when he wished. He fucked Imyan so wantonly, so passionately, and he was not quiet about it. He sucked, penetrated, and rode him, and he spread shamelessly for him. 

He also went with him to the Fall Forest just to have long low talks with the mer. To kiss him. To fuck. 

He’d given the Dunmer thief gifts (stolen, naturally). A fiery ebony dagger, a pair of gloves enchanted to boost Imyan’s already-impressive archery skills. Those were only the ones Kordin knew of. In turn, he had overheard Imyan present Brynjolf with a new set of fine clothes from Radiant Raiment, custom-enchanted to enhance the already honey-tongued man’s persuasiveness and allure. The rich blue color brought out the same blue in Brynjolf’s bright, knowing eyes, and it must have cost the relatively new recruit quite a bit of his savings.

When the three of them were together, Brynjolf gave Kordin no lack of attention, and Imyan behaved as if he wanted him there. Imyan still went to Kordin behind his screen when he demanded it. Kordin was confident Imyan was afraid of the punishment the Guildmaster was preparing, for his attempt to kill him in his bed. 

If Imyan were smart, he should be very afraid.

Kordin slipped off to his area of the Cistern to prepare for his journey to Whiterun. He had some money waiting at Jorrvaskr, for rescuing a ransom hostage. 

Perhaps, if Imyan took his upcoming punishment well, he’d reward him with his own gift. 

He’d recently met a young Dunmer whore with both his nipples pierced, and the man had told him it heightened their sensitivity. Turned out he liked having them tugged lightly, and would allow less gentle treatment for an extra fee. It had been well worth the gold to watch the pretty grey thing squirm.

Kordin spent the cart-ride to Whiterun from Riften hoping Athis would happen to be at the mead-hall. Sero had a job way off near Solitude, eliminating one easy and very pleasant way for Kordin to satisfy himself. 

He’d been wanting to spend a little more time with Athis, anyway. Maybe in the Companions’ dormitory area while everyone else was working, practicing or drinking. Or out in the woods, like that first lucky time. Maybe the man would even come to Breezehome.

After collecting his money and grabbing some mead, he roamed the place, greeting his Shield-Siblings nicely, all the while on the lookout for a certain sour little red-eyed beauty. Finally, he asked Farkas (or Vilkas--who could tell? Both were muscular, bluntly handsome, and disappointingly boring in bed) if he knew where the man might be. The twin informed him that Athis had left that morning for a job in Markarth, and was not expected back till at least the next day.

The Nord spent several hours talking about archery with Aela and imbibing, accepted a job for the next day (fetching a Morthal family’s enchanted heirloom helm from a bandit lair not far from that swampy city). He took his leave in a friendly manner, tamping down his frustration at the absence of the gorgeous warrior elf. He had a particular urge to bite the inside of one of those lean, muscular grey thighs.

He was about to head to the Bannered Mare, when something reminded him of Anoriath—perhaps the sight of his still-unused stall—which made him think of both Niruin and Elrindir. His recent severe craving for Bosmer flesh came to the surface of his mind. He turned his steps toward the Drunken Huntsman.

He found the place oddly darkened, which gave him pause. Then he heard the door shut and a key turn. He jumped into the shadow of the building. 

It was Elrindir, on his way out, wearing the kind of tight leather armor that made the Nord again think of taking bites out of a man. He was carrying a bow and arrows on his strong lean back and a sheathed axe at his slim waist, obviously ready for a hunt. His red hair was bright under the slowly waning sun.

This was immense great luck, and he could think of nothing other than taking advantage. Using all his skills to ensure he wouldn’t be seen, he followed Anoriath’s beautiful brother out of Whiterun, out onto the plains.

It was a few hours before sunset, a mild day very much like the day he’d shot Anoriath, and he was enjoying watching the man’s brother from afar as he killed and gathered rabbits and pheasants, as he fought off a trio of wolves, as he stood for long minutes, seeming to admire the line of the faraway mountains. 

The red-headed mer had once mentioned to another customer that he used to do this with Anoriath. He wasn’t as good a shot as his brother, but he was by no means bad. Perhaps he’d agree to accept pointers, but Kordin wondered how seriously he suspected him of involvement with the other hunter’s demise. With leaving him nude and obviously violated. 

Prey. Leaking blood, gorgeous, and caked with cum inside.

When he judged it the right time, he prepared some leather straps and quickened his steps toward the compact elf. The handsome little creature had dropped his gear on the ground for a moment while he rested, his kills bleeding through a rough sack. 

He was engrossed, it seemed, in the picturesque view of the distance.

“Hello, friend,” Kordin greeted him casually. “Nice view.”

The elf was lightly sweating, a bit of rabbit or pheasant blood on that sparse leather armor, that armor that was obviously designed to drive Kordin to madness.

“I—hello. I didn’t expect anyone out here. Usually--”

“Usually, you’re alone, I imagine.”

Kordin took a step. Elrindir turned fully toward him, appraising him.

“Thane Kordin.”

“Yes. Good to meet you—again.”

He smiled and stuck a hand out. Elrindir shook it, looking him in the eye. Kordin’s smile turned to a smirk. He did not let go of Elrindir’s thin, capable hand, and he did not let go of his gaze either, till the mer averted his.

“Perhaps you’ll remember my… predilection for Valenwood beauties like yourself.”

The Bosmer’s delicate eyebrows furrowed. 

“And I believe I told you I’m not interested,” he said evenly, finally, trying to tug away his small hand. 

Kordin did not let his hand go, but rather pulled him closer, gripped his other shoulder. The Bosmer tried to resist, but he was too small. Soon, they were close enough for Kordin to force a light kiss to the man’s thin pretty lips. His stubble scratched pleasantly.

“I really don’t think this is the time or place to be difficult,” the Nord said quietly into Elrindir’s sharp ear. “You may think you own the plains, and most of the time, I am sure you’re correct. But, you know, this is just the kind of situation where a mer all by himself could get into real trouble.” Another kiss. “Don’t you remember what happened to your pretty brother?”

Elrindir wrenched away even harder, but Kordin held him, yanked him close. 

“Need I remind you?”

“How would you—“ Elrindir shook his alluring red head. “You—you really did do it, didn’t you?”

“You’re as smart a mer as you are beautiful. So you must know I have connections with people you don’t wanna fuck with. So you won’t tell anyone you saw me today.”

“People--th-they said they thought they saw you follow him out of the gate. I didn’t want to believe--wasn’t sure right away, but...”

Suddenly, the small, strong elf broke one firm arm lose, reached for his axe. Kordin easily slapped the weapon to the ground, watched it clatter down a stony incline. He smiled, knowing he was truly in charge now.

“None of that, handsome,” he whispered, moving in for another kiss, this time against lips whose owner yielded, seeming to know he was beaten, at least for the moment. 

“Are you going to kill me, too, then?” Elrindir asked steadily, as Kordin broke the kiss to admire his fine, bronzy Bosmer features.

“No,” laughed Kordin. “But it’s a damn tempting idea.” 

He kissed the man’s sharp ear, making him cringe.

“He was naked when the guards found him.” Kordin kissed the dark-golden mouth. Elrindir averted his eyes. “Naked. Filthy. I only used my tongue to lick up the seed and blood.”

Elrindir’s black eyes were confused, scandalized, or both. Then he looked hateful, before Kordin grabbed the Bosmer’s slim face and squeezed. 

Elrindir compressed his fine lips and closed his eyes. 

“Still filthy inside, when they found him,” Kordin told the mer, poking his tongue into the delicate, sensitive ear, at the same time gripping his hard little body close. 

He bit lightly, squeezing the small muscles in the Bosmer’s biceps with his large hands. 

“I bet you’d be as pretty a toy as he was. But I’m not going to do that to you.” Kordin dragged the Bosmer into another forceful kiss, pressing one hand to his nape and the other to the small of his lean back. “As long as you do as I say. Otherwise you’ll become the second lovely corpse I’ve left all messy out here on the plains.”

Kordin hauled him to a flat spot among a few trees, where he removed and tossed his leather cloak down onto the grass. He pulled the mer down onto the cloak with him. The small body went down stiffly, awkwardly, but rather easily, due to Kordin’s strength.

With Elrindir caught in his strong arms, he whispered again in that tasty ear.

“I’ve never had a Bosmer let me into his ass. Your brother was--”

“I don’t want to hear about it,” muttered Elrindir. “Please.”

“Not entirely your choice, elf.” He bit the tip of ear he’d spoken into. “But, perhaps, the more you cooperate, the less you’ll hear about it. The less I’ll whisper into these beautiful ears of yours about how warm he was inside, how tight--”

“Stop, damn you!”

“So, you’ll take me into your ass?” He stroked Elrindir’s fiery, sweat-dampened hair. “My little predator?”

“I—your--Yes, yes, I will.”

“And you’ll please me, won’t you?”

“I ...I will.”

“Then you might be spared some of the details.”

Elrindir looked miserable, then resigned. He had beautiful shimmering solid-dark eyes.

“Let’s get that armor off. It’s real pretty on you, but I wanna see you without it.”

The skin was all golden-brown, expect for a few fine scars. To match his skin, there was a floss of golden-red hair on the chest and upper thighs, a hint of it under the armpits, and a neat bush at the base of the flaccid genitals. The ankles were slim, the feet long and broad and very capable-looking, just like his hands. 

Kordin gently bound his hands behind his back, propped him against a log.

“Just in case, my morsel.”

He ran his right hand through Elrindir’s red locks, kissing him again.

“I always wonder why men as pretty as you bother selling anything other than your bodies,” he said, kissing along his jaw to attack his ear again. “Now look at me. Let’s see those dark eyes.”

Elrindir breathed, looked at him. The eyes glittered like expertly polished ebony.

“Good boy.” Kordin praised, running his dagger lightly across Elrindir’s sparse chest hairs. “I can only assume you’ve never been fucked by a Nord before?”

Elrindir shook his head, taking his eyes off Kordin again. Kordin slapped his face, just hard enough to make a sharp sound.

“You’ll want to keep looking at me, sweet thing.” The mer obeyed, his expression apprehensive, at the very least, as Kordin went back to carding his fingers through fire-red hair. “You’re so small—I understand--but I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

“Please, don’t,” the Bosmer blurted out. “I’lI—I can suck you instead.”

“That’s a pleasure I’ve already had, my dear.” Kordin jerked on a handful of the mer’s hair “Besides, you already agreed to this. Now, spread, and let me see if your hole’s as pretty as his was.”

Blushing, without options, the mer opened his lithe thighs.

“Nice prick and balls,” Kordin said, caressing both. He could almost feel Elrindir trying not to recoil. He tickled the mer’s asshole. “And a very sweet brown pucker.”

The Bosmer’s hole flinched, and the muscles in his torso rippled as he squirmed with discomfort. His legs almost fell closed.

Kordin slapped his thighs open, sharp.

“No need to hide anything, handsome. It’s just you and me out here. Keep ’em spread for me.” He kissed Elrindir’s left inner thigh. “Your brother was in no position to be shy. I got to have everything, see all of him. Do you want to know how I got him ready? Didn’t want to ruin my lovely toy, so I had to be--”

“Please,” the mer said quietly. “Don’t tell me any more.”

“Perhaps I’ll simply show you what I did, then.”

The Nord kissed his way along Elrindir’s inner thigh, forcibly holding the slim legs open.

“You Bosmer have such beautiful brown flesh, so smooth.” Kordin gave the inner though just below he buttocks a hard nip. “I hear you eat each other. How intriguing.”

Elrindir did not respond. Kordin laughed at his attempt at stoicism.

“I’m going to ‘eat’ you now, in a bit of a different sense.”

And he went down into what felt like silky hot bliss, between the Bosmer’s firm, red-hair-lined buttocks. He concentrated the considerable energies of his tongue on the mer’s reluctant, clenching little pucker. In a few moments, he’d be in there, in that impossible little place, if the elf remained compliant. He kissed the spot itself, nipped the sides, got everything as wet as he could. All the while, he had to hold the elf open by the legs as he squirmed in shame.

“Fingers are coming next,” he informed his slim Elven prize. “Do you know that your brother’s ass was--”

“Please. I said I’d do as you wish.”

Kordin traced a thick finger-tip across the spit-covered Bosmer entrance.

“This’ll hurt a bit, my love. But you’re a sturdy little mer, huh? A good little mer, too. You can take it.”

He stuck the first finger in without further warning.

“You’re so hot inside, so small,” Kordin murmured. “You’ll need oil” He smiled. “He did.”

“Then just—use it—and please stop.” The elf sounded near tears. Wonderful.

The Nord got the oil from his satchel and coated his fingers. This was to be the first of many delightful moments of the evening, just getting inside the small man.

Yes, it was slow going, but every inch delivered more hot constriction, more beautiful low moans from the golden-brown elf. Occasionally, Kordin would stroke those pretty genitals, just a perfectly-proportioned as his brother’s, but Elrindir’s body did not respond as well as many men’s did to Kordin’s expert caresses. 

He got two fingers in, with the mer groaning under him, gritting his pretty sharp teeth from the pain. But he didn’t dare speak, lest he hear more about what had befallen his delectable brother.

“If you relax a bit more, little man, I can get three in.” Kordin kissed his thigh once more. “It’ll be better for you in the end. Keep your eyes on me while I’m getting in you, love.”

As Kordin inserted the third oiled digit, those shiny black eyes stayed trained on his face, but they were now obviously wet with the Bosmer’ silent tears of pain. His bright red hair was messy from Kordin’s attentions. His dark-golden skin flushed deliciously.

“Doing very well, pretty. I think I can even fit in you, now. I won’t break you, I promise. If you’re too tight for me, I’ll just rub off between your cheeks. But I might have to remember a bit more about your sweet Anoriath to make it work.”

“Just take me, then,” rasped Elrindir, “Please. I don’t want to know.”

“’Just take you’, huh?” laughed Kordin. “How could I ask for a better invitation?”

Despite the eagerness in his words, he was careful. The Bosmer might be useful again at some future point, after all. 

First, he oiled his prick liberally. Then he scissored the Bosmer open again gently while looking into his black, wet slanted eyes, just to make sure he was ready. He rubbed his cock-head cautiously against that little ridged, greasy, sparsely-furred opening. That alone was a thrilling feeling.

When he first slipped the head in, the little Bosmer could not help but growl.

“Shhh, love,” Kordin said, “Your brother was so much sweeter and quieter.” He thrust, just a little. “Be sweet for me, and I won’t say any more.”

He fucked Anoriath’s beautiful redheaded brother much more slowly at first than he ever had a Nord, Dunmer, or Imperial. He certainly could not abuse him in the way he would a larger golden Altmer—their holes were almost too easy to get into. 

Luckily, Elrindir seemed to relax, or at least give up, and his hot insides became looser. The copious oil helped, too. It didn’t pinch, just felt sweet and tight, like his innards were adamantly embracing Kordin’s thrusting prick.

As he penetrated him, he twined hands into red hair and kissed thin unwilling lips, nibbling them, suckling in the small reluctant tongue. He tasted like he’d used something to clean his teeth recently, then drunk some mead.

Kordin picked up speed, depth, sighing into the lean Bosmer flesh surrounding his cock. It was as much of a struggle to keep from coming now as when he was with a Dunmer. Certainly, the Bosmer was beautiful, nearly as beautiful as Rendar, Sero, or Imyan, but the tightness of his ass alone was going to do Kordin in. He pulled the Bosmer’s hair in frustration, but the yell of pain that resulted only turned him on more.

So, he came, flooding the elf’s little hole with streams of hot Nord cream. Elrindir shuddered and cried out, but wisely said nothing, as Kordin disengaged carefully from his small body and patted his back and messy ass.

“Hope the rest of your hunt goes well,” he said, in a mellow mood, as he undid the elf’s bonds, then stuck him with a paralysis poison.

Kordin walked back to Whiterun. On the way, he basked in what he had done to the pretty hunter he’d just left, and considered what he had planned for the sultry assassin back in Riften.


End file.
